


Saturday Morning Surprise

by Severina



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Community: 25fluffyfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-02
Updated: 2008-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 12:10:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two anniversaries</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday Morning Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Post Season Five  
> Written for LJ's 25FluffyFics community  
> Prompt 07: Breakfast

The thing I like most about living at Britin is the kitchen.

No, that's a lie. The thing I like most is the master bedroom, with the huge antique four poster bed and the massive wardrobe and the sitting area complete with wood burning fireplace and lush divan. Sometimes I lounge there on a Sunday morning, the only day that Brian lets himself sleep late. I'll steal quietly out of that big bed and grab a notepad and sketch him, like I used to do back when he had a penthouse loft and I still lived with my parents. I love those peaceful times, when the fire in the hearth has burned down low and the only sound is the popping of old wood and the scritch of my pencil on the paper. Sometimes Brian wakes up, some internal alarm telling him that I'm not in bed, but he just lies still and watches me and lets me finish before he calls me back to bed with that wicked smile.

Brian's favourite thing is the bed. But the walk-in closet is a close second. It's the size of the old loft bedroom, and he has an entire wall just for his _shoes_.

An entire wall. _Just for his shoes_.

My second favourite place, though, is definitely the kitchen. It's a chef's kitchen, the kind with the six burner stove and the giant walk-in freezer, everything in stainless steel and chrome and stone imported from Italy or Madagascar or someplace like that. I'm not a great cook -- I spent a year in New York living on ramen noodles, grape jelly, and Easy Mac -- but I like to dabble, and the things I try usually turn out okay. Even if sometimes they're better on the second day.

I woke up early this morning. It takes a lot of effort to actually beat Brian out of bed on a Saturday. He's usually showered, shaved, dressed in sweats, made coffee, read the paper, and got his workout bag packed before I manage to stumble out of bed, bleary eyed and stinky breathed, and yawn my way to the kitchen. No matter what his timetable, though, he always finds time to stick his tongue down my throat and grope me, which is Brian's way of saying 'Good morning'. Unlike weekdays where a morning fuck -- or at the very least a mutual hand job -- is our standard wake-up routine, on Saturdays I have to make do with that grope-n-kiss until Brian gets back from the gym. It's the one day where he's sure to meet up with Michael and the guys and get in some quality friend time, so I bottle up my libido until noon.

Getting up before Brian on a Saturday -- and not waking him up in the process -- takes some planning.

Last night I put a carefully folded set of clothes inside the laundry basket in the guest bathroom. Accessible, but not noticeable. I set the alarm on my cell phone for six o'clock a.m. and planned to casually tuck the cell phone under my pillow after we fucked. I was counting on our usual rousing round between the sheets because after _that_ I sleep like the dead, so I was pretty sure the cell phone wouldn't shift as I slept. As my luck would have it, Brian was in a mood last night and we went at it -- slo-o-owly --for hours. He took his time… and it was amazing. So I slept like the dead for another reason entirely.

When the alarm went off this morning I turned it off quickly, confused and wondering why the fuck I wanted to wake up at the ass crack of dawn. Then I remembered. I cautiously glanced over at Brian's side of the bed. He was still flopped out on his stomach, mouth open and making that weird little snore rattle that he makes when he's really tired. I snuck into the guest bathroom to run a brush through my hair, clean my teeth, and sling on the jeans and T-shirt I'd hidden in the hamper. Then I padded softly down the stairs and into the kitchen.

This morning I'm making breakfast.

By the time I pull the eggs out of the fridge, the early morning sunlight is shining steadily through the big picture window. I remove a single box of cereal from the cupboard in order to reach the English muffins I'd previously stowed behind them. I used to think that the best place to hide stuff would be behind the Count Chocula and the Fruity Pebbles, but I hadn't counted on Brian's drunk cravings and wasted cravings and hangover cravings and silly mood cravings. He found so much of my shit! Now I know to hide stuff behind the Mueslix-- the cereal he always _says_ he eats, but never really does.

I get the stove turned on and the pan heats up quickly. I hum a little as I cook, some fifties song I heard on the radio yesterday, and before I know it the entire breakfast is ready… and Brian isn't awake yet. His internal Justin-is-out-of-bed alarm should have gone off by now. I guess he was _really_ tired.

I look at my beautiful plated breakfast, the one that I dragged my sore ass out of bed to make. I picture Brian sound asleep upstairs. He had a long day yesterday, a very long and pleasurable evening, and he has yet another busy day ahead of him. And he's not getting any younger. I wonder if maybe I should just let him sleep.

I wonder this for about two seconds. Then I walk to the bottom of the stairs and yell "BREAKFAST!"

Brian appears about three minutes later, and clearly he's come directly from bed. He pulls the sash on his silk robe a little tighter. Looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. And says, "What the FUCK?"

I smile cheerily. "Morning."

Brian swipes a hand through his bed head, making absolutely no progress in taming the wild tufts of hair. "Justin…" he begins wearily.

I gesture toward the table, and watch his mouth drop open. The presentation is perfect, if I do say so myself. I think the single rose is a nice touch.

Brian turns back to me, eyebrow arched. "Eggs Benedict?" he says. "What's the occasion?"

Gus chooses that moment to barrel into the kitchen, still clad in his little Wall-E pyjamas. "It's my birthday, Daddy!" he informs his father matter-of-factly.

"That's right," I agree. I lean down and give him a quick kiss on the top of the head. He's already starting to do that squirmy thing when we try to give him too much affection. "Happy Birthday, Gus."

He smiles up at me. "Thank you, Daddy."

Brian takes a step back and mimes slapping himself in the head. "Your birthday?" he says. "I forgot!"

Gus giggles. "No you didn't!" he answers as he pulls himself up onto a chair and starts digging in to his Alpha-Bits. He hasn't noticed the toast with the peanut butter happy face yet. "You're silly."

"Very silly," I tell Brian.

He makes a face at me, then reaches out to grab at my waistband and tug me in. He gives me a peck on the lips and I can tell he's still fucking clueless.

"Happy Anniversary," I murmur.

His eyes go wide. And he makes sure the next kiss is a lot more thorough.


End file.
